The Horror at Kangi Crossing
by HalcyonLegacy
Summary: Kangi Crossing is a mining colony with a terrifying secret in this Lovecraft-inspired short story set in the Star Wars: The Old Republic universe.
1. Chapter 1

It is only after much rest and recovery that I am able to recount the events of my recent experience. Truthfully, I had dared not think I might ever intentionally or consciously recall the horror I had faced in the bowels of that planet, and the dark secrets contained within. Even now, my hand trembles as I write, and I must take frequent pauses in my annotation, lest I find myself overcome with fright once again. In truth, I would prefer to keep the horrors that I witnessed safely within the confines of my own memory rather than make known the fact of what I encountered, lest someone feel the need to retrace my steps down into that cursed foulness in the belly of that foul planet. However, in my role of service to both my lord and my guild, it falls upon me to write a record of what was encountered, should the information prove useful in the future.

It is not strange in these days for men and women of all races to seek solace in religion, especially when faced with an unknowable or unfathomable strangeness all so common in the galaxy. There are many such faiths and sacraments to deities of all types, both divine and foul, and whether through worship or subservience, most seek to preserve their own fellowships from the wrath of whatever end days might be upon them. And while there are a great many dark and powerful entities lingering in the veiled spaces between the realms, it is all too often for these cults to revolve around a mortal being, one who claimed to have some kind of ownership or parley with one such entity. Such is the tendency of Sith who are gifted with more ambition and ego than opportunity.

Other times, the divine or unholy is encountered by the common man, one who has no sense of faith or worship, and rather meets face to face the unfathomable horrors of the in-between and strikes an accord. It is through such unclean and evil encounters that true horror lie. For a man backed by his faith will sacrifice his life, but a man that uses evil without the reverence of its source will sacrifice everyone else.

It was the former that brought me to the planet where I would come face to face with one such evil. The cult of a fallen Sith had been infesting the inner bowels of a far away planet. A mining team had gone missing while in the middle of their operation. A team had been sent in to investigate and found that the miners had discovered a series of previously unknown temples beneath the surface of the planet, where this cult had thrived worshipping the still-enduring spirit of a long death Sith lord. The situation had been diffused and resolved easily enough, but it raised concerns regarding the safety of other mining settlements on the various corners of the planet. Thus I was sent to correlate and investigate some of the other settlements in order to verify their safety and ability to continue their work.

My status within the Empire, as well as my published works on various ancient civilizations in Sith history, made me an ideal participant in such a review, and in fact I had been researching this planet and its histories in preparation when I receiving the summons that would ultimately place me on the ship that would take me to this world. It was not an unhappy assignment, as I was always eager to learn more about long-dead civilizations and cultures, especially those that mingle with ancient Sith teachings. To find remnants of a dead culture still living in these modern times would be an incredible opportunity. Sadly, it was not my mandate to investigate this cult directly. Rather, I was being sent to the far side of the planet, to a mining community that had been in existence for decades without any known contact with this group, who might as well have been on the far side of the galaxy for the distance spanned between them. Still, I would certainly find time during my review to explore some on my own, and the thought of stumbling upon another of these ancient temples or tunnels gave me enough to look forward to on this expedition.

I was lost in my readings when it came time to travel, and so rather than use my own ship and crew, I decided to take some time away and chartered a private flight from the nearest Imperial outpost a few sectors away. The trip was not long, and so I thanked my pilot, paid him for the trip, and requested that he return in one week's time in order to pick me up and return me to the outpost. And so it was that I arrived at the edge of the mining town of Kangi Crossing.


	2. Chapter 2

It is a fact of the galaxy that once removed from the inner circles of civilization, culture degrades at a predictable rate. All too often it is seen on the far away outposts on worlds seldom visited by any regular trade. Once removed from the sensibilities of what one would consider civilized society, especially once a new generation is born in such circumstance, the elegance and propriety of modern men and women is left aside in favor of a simpler, agrarian lifestyle. A certain marked regression is noticed, the degradation of speech and mannerism unwelcome and unfamiliar to any not of the displaced community. It goes without saying, then, that the outside element is rarely received favorably.

While I have a great many years left in me, I am not a young man, and years of contact with various far-removed cultures has hardened me to such receptions. And so I harbored no ill will to the citizens of Kangi Crossing when they gave me a wide berth and more than a few unfavorable glances as I made my way through the colony. I made my way through the colony to the foreman's lodge, where I was to procure such boarding that might be available. My initial appraisal of the village drew out no favorable prospects on that front, as I was met with the sound of hastily drawn window shutters and closed doors as I passed by.

The sun was high in the sky by this point, and the temperature was warmer than I was accustomed to. My coat was drawn tight around me still, but I allowed my hood to fall to cool my head. My intention was to allow those peering eyes from behind closed doors to see my countenance for themselves in vain hope that I might disarm hostility towards me. I thought that by revealing that I was, in fact, merely a weary visitor and nothing more I might ease future interactions with the villagers. I carried my pack with me in my left hand, and the walking stick I found myself leaning on more and more in recent months traveled with me at my right. I felt no surprise when I made it all the way from one end of the village to the other without anyone offering to help an old man with his luggage.

The foreman's lodge was little more than a crudely constructed shelter, leaning back and forth in the wind. One could hear the creaking of old metal as it shifted with a painful grinding. I winced at the sound, as my own aching joints were often inclined to creak with similarity I did not care for. For the first time, I began to wonder if taking on such a strenuous endeavor in my advanced age was appropriate. Such thoughts were quickly banished with distaste as I made my way up to the entrance to the lodge.

I did not make it far, as I was quickly approached by two large and disheveled men as I passed through the door. I say that they were both large, and while accurate it is a misleading statement. It implies a degree of similarity. However, the two men that came to meet me were very unlike in appearance. One man was large in the way a beast might be considered large, towering a full head above my own frame and comprised almost entirely of bulk. The other man was large in the way only a man might be considered large, a full head shorter than I and yet as wide as I was tall. He shifted side to side heavily as he trod, and his steps invoked that hideous creaking sound once again.

"Mister Volaro?" The tall man spoke first, his voice thick with a deep accent, one that gave me the impression that education had never been a priority here at Kangi Crossing. "Mister Volaro, that you?"

"Of course it is, Lug, ain't no other outsiders we expectin', after all." The wide man spit on the floor and grinned up at me. "Name's Nutt," he declared, shoving a flabby thumb into his chest. "I'm the foreman 'round here. We're gonna make sure that your review goes all safe and quick-like, fella."

The tall man nodded. "Yes sir. Quick and safe. Yes sir."

One can imagine my reassurance.


	3. Chapter 3

I was provided a room in the cellar of the foreman's lodge, a small and dingy space with a dirt floor and a single window high up near the ground level. The light from the window was not nearly adequate to illuminate the space, and so I lit a candle as my first order of business and examined the room. It was a modest accommodation, with a simple cot next to the night table upon which I had sat the candle. The air a damp heaviness to it, accompanied by a moldy smell, which was unusual given the dry and arid climate we found ourselves in. The smell was unsettling, but I assured myself that I would grow accustomed to it in time.

For the time being, I opted to use this opportunity to explore the village. My report was to detail the well-being of the denizens of Kangi Crossing as much as it was to investigate any potential dangers. As so I emerged through the cellar door into the harsh sunlight, notebook in hand, determined to obtain an impression of the strange and unwelcoming community in which I would be spending the next several days.

I kept to the main streets, wanting to remain as visible as possible. The sooner that the townsfolk adjusted to my presence, the sooner I might be able to coax conversation from them. As I explored the village, I gradually began to take note that younger members of the community were starting to set aside their caution to give way to curiosity. I encountered less closed doors the farther I travelled, and it would have been difficult not to be aware of the smattering of children sneaking along my path behind me, whispering their wonders.

I took my time exploring the village. I had no interest in rushing through my report. In truth, I felt the drier climate would be good for my health, and I found myself entertaining the notion of taking some time off and taking holiday in such a climate. Certainly not anywhere near this backwards society, but someplace with less dust. In truth, the dust was everywhere here. My steps sunk ever so slightly as I walked, and I imagined that I would have to empty my boots when I returned to my quarters at the end of the day.

I walked along the outskirts of the village at this point, curious to see how far the children would follow. By the time I had travelled no more than a hundred meters from the outlying structure, most of my followers had made themselves scarce. While over a dozen children of varying ages had been stealthily chasing me around, only one remained. I was not surprised. It would be common for a superstitious folk such as those of this backwater outpost to warn their children never to leave the confines of the village. It was curious then, that this sandy-haired boy of perhaps eleven continued to keep pace.

Feeling that this was likely my first opportunity to make contact with the villagers, I took a seat on a large rock and studied my notebook, waiting for the young boy to gather the courage to come closer. He was a healthy child, obviously bred for the mines. It was likely he already helped in a simple capacity, carrying what loads he could. He had a strong back for such a young man, and would be quite the worker when he matured. Most striking about this boy, however, were the eyes. His eyes were the most unusual shade of violet I had ever seen. I had noticed no such peculiarity among the other citizens I had encountered, and it set this child apart from his peers as much as his persistence in following beyond the confines of town where all his fellow children had stayed behind.

As I flipped slowly through my notebook, the young man gradually worked his way closer and closer to me. I pretended not to notice him until his curiosity got the better of him, and he emerged from behind his hiding place to peer over my shoulder. My notebook was open to a page on religious symbols from a variety of faiths, and I smiled as he leaned over me, perhaps forgetting that he was previously trying not to be seen.

I was preparing my first statement to him in my head, hopefully something that would startle him back into hiding, when to my own surprise he reached forward and touched one of the symbols drawn in my book. I gladly shifted my position to move the notebook in front of him, so that he might access it more freely. Again, he pointed to the same symbol, a round sigil divided by two lines that met in a point just below the center of the design.

"Have you seen this one before, child?" I asked. My voice did not seem to bother him, as he stood his ground and kept his eyes fixed on the notebook. The design that held his interest was a very old one, and variations of it had been found in many cultures, usually indicating hunger, or the action of eating. His violet eyes seemed transfixed on it, and he ran his finger over it, tracing the lines. I smiled as I let him examine the notebook, sharing a silent moment with him.

It was then that something caught my eye in the dust at my feet. A glimmer one would not have expected to find naturally. I leaned over and from the ground pulled a brilliant blue gem, about the size of one of my spectacles' lens. I turned it over in my hand, amazed that such a clear and perfect sample would be found lying out in the open, covered with dust.

I turned to show it to my new friend, but I saw only his back as he ran back to the village with a ferocity borne of fear, and I was left alone holding the gem in confusion.


	4. Chapter 4

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the outskirts of the village. I poked through the sand and vegetation, searching for more of the strange gems, to no avail. As the sun began to lower towards the horizon, I began my walk back into town, examining the brilliant blue crystal I had found. It fit snugly in my hand as it was almost perfectly round, and seemed to have a very faint aura about it, as though it were softly emitting light, rather than simply reflecting it. Truly it was a marvelous discovery. If this was an example of the product this mining colony exported, then it is no wonder that such importance was placed on its continued production. Such a gem would certainly fetch a very fair price among the right circles, and if they could be found in bulk here, there was a great amount of fortune to be had.

Still, I was baffled by way the silent boy with the violet eyes had reacted to it. The mere sight of it had sent him fleeing in fear. This boy, whose courage had held long after his peers had fallen behind, seemed terrified of this gem. Still more curious was the interest he had shown in the sigul in my notebook. His finger had traced it, he had almost certainly seen it before. I made a mental note to research the symbol when I returned to my quarters.

It was nearly dark when I reached the main road, and the lanterns were already lit. It was quaint, the lack of technology in this small village. The lanterns were little more than oil lamps, and judging by the way the shadows danced in the windows, I suspected that the indoor lighting was comprised of simple open-flame candles as well. It was surreal, as though a cutting of the ancient past had come to life in this modern time.

Not far from the foreman's lodge, light poured from a building on the corner of the street. The sounds that came from there indicated a cantina, where the majority of the village undoubtedly spent the majority of their evenings. While I had intended to head straight to my room to document my findings of the day, I decided that it would be beneficial to stop by the cantina and mingle among the townsfolk.

I entered the cantina, pausing for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the light. Unlike the rest of what I had seen, this particular establishment benefited from powered lighting, albeit a considerably ancient one. Flickering lamps adorned the walls, and what appeared to be a wire-filament chandelier hung from the ceiling. Unlike most cantinas, where it was traditional for a band or musician to play, I found no such venue of entertainment. There were men playing cards and dice, and plenty of raucous drinking. These were large, roughneck men, and as soon as I entered the cantina, every single one of them stopped what they were doing and looked at me. The room went silent unnaturally quickly, and I felt upon myself a hostility I had never felt, and I could not have possibly felt more unwelcome.

"Mister Volaro! Mister, come here!" The tall man called Lug waved me over to his table enthusiastically. His partner Nutt glared at the patrons of the cantina and rapped his knuckles on the table twice, the sound stirring the men back from their reverie. The games and drinking resumed, and sound once again filled the room. I made my way back to the foreman's table, and took a seat with the only two men in town that did not seem to regard me with such loathing.

"Well then, how'd yer first day go, V? Everything lookin' good, yeah?" Nutt took a mighty swig from his mug and wiped foam from his mustache.

"You have a lovely village here, gentlemen. I am grateful for the opportunity to visit it." The statement seemed to catch the men off-guard. Nutt paused in his drinking, eyeing me suspiciously. Lug grinned widely, proud of the compliment, and nudged his partner enthusiastically. "I was wondering, as this is a mining compound, what is it that you mine for?"

Nutt wiped his mouth again, and considered his words carefully. "Oh, there's a variety of minerals and metals in these hills. The big money comes from the jewels though. Now and then one will pop up."

I nodded, and removed the blue gem from my coat pocket. "Is this one? I found it outside the village today, and it seemed very out of place for such a barren region as this."

Both men's eyes widened at the sight of the blue glowing gem, and Nutt had swiped it from my hand with a speed that I would never have suspected from a man of his girth. "Hey! Wouldja look at that? Heh, how'd that get out there, eh?" He pocketed the gem and smiled wryly. "Sorry, gotta take that from ya. Property of the mining union, you know?"

He snapped his fingers quickly, getting the attention of a young woman serving drinks. "This here's Susan. A lovely girl." He slapped her on the bottom, causing her to jump and frown. Such action offended me, but I knew better than to make a scene as a guest of the foreman. "We've arranged for her to keep you company tonight."

I blushed, not knowing how to gracefully bow out of such a proposition, but Susan, a lovely young woman with bright red hair and an alluring smile, quickly took me by the arm and led me away. The two men waved to me jovially as she pulled me out of the cantina and into the street. We made it halfway back to the lodge before I could pull away from her.

"Listen, dear, I thank you for the...uh...the offer, but that is truly not necessary. I dont..."

"Listen to me!" She hissed, the pleasant expression on her face melting away into one of fear and determination. "You have to get me out of here!"

I was caught off guard by this rapid change in personality. "What? What are you saying?"

She pulled me against the lodge outer wall and whispered. "They are sending me down tomorrow, I can't do it mister, I won't! I'll die before I let them send me down to that thing!"

I held her by the shoulders to try and calm her. "Slow down, what are you talking about, child?"

"You've got to take me with you! They are sending me tomorrow and I can't bear the thought!" She wrenched away from me. "If you won't help me, I'll escape on my own." Before I could wrap my head around this strangeness, she fled into the night.

My mind was reeling from the baffling encounter, and I stood dumbfounded for several moments, trying to piece together what she had been saying. I turned back to the Cantina, where the townsfolk were still winding down, and I determined that there was certainly something worth investigating here.

I crept along the outside of the cantina, quietly scaling the wall. The second floor window was open, and I intended to sneak inside and see what I might find. Before I could make it through the window, however, the door opened, and I quickly perched outside the window, unseen.

"That could have been bad, yeah?" It was Lug, and Nutt was almost certainly with him, judging by the heavy footsteps that accompanied him. "That Mister Volaro saw one, yeah?"

"Don't you worry none about the old man, Lug." Definitely Nutt. "Susan's the best lay we got. She'll make him forget all about it."

Lug giggled. "Susan, heh heh."

Nutt chuckled along with him. "Heh yeah. Shame her time's up. Wouldn't mind keeping her around a bit longer."

I peeked around the corner carefully, and saw Nutt pull the brilliant blue gem from his pocket. It was certainly emitting its own light, that much was obvious in the darkened room, and it lit up the faces of the two men.

"Which one is it, Nutt? One of the Yeester kids?"

"Nah, this one is one of those Heyen boys. Look at the pattern. They all got it."

I frowned, what were they talking about?

The door slammed open again. "Nutt!" The newcomer was a younger man, one I had not recognised. "Susan's gone. Jimmy just saw her making a run for it 'cross the riverbed!"

Nutt growled, "That girl must've finished the old man off quicker than usual, figgered she could make a break for it. Get the boys together. She's up for bearin' tomorrow. We can't have her runnin' off."

A chill went down my spine at this. I quickly dropped to the ground floor and hurried back to my room, where I chronicled the night's events in my notebook. I did not know the significance of the gem, nor the ominous warning that Susan had given before fleeing. I did not know what Nutt meant when he said that Susan was "up for bearin'" the next day. I did know one thing, however.

Something evil was amiss in Kangi Crossing.


	5. Chapter 5

I slept uneasily that night, plagued by nightmares of the worst variety. I remember a feeling of helplessness, a feeling which I was not accustomed to. I woke drenched in sweat, and quickly disrobed to allow myself to dry in the open air. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the mountainous horizon. Despite my uneasy night of sleep and my deeper concerns regarding the situation I had found myself in, I allowed myself a moment of peace, stretching out before the sunbeams leaking into my room from the high window. It was invigorating in a way, and strengthened my resolve to continue my review, and perhaps conduct an investigation of my own design as well.

I prepared a light breakfast of scratchbread and beans in my room, reviewing my notes as I ate. I prepared a new section in my journal, a place to compile a new set of notes about the village. Anything peculiar or mentionable I found would go there, separate and apart from my notes directly pertaining to my official review. There were several questions I needed answers to, not the least of which involved the strange happenings of the night before with the young woman and the queer conversation I had overheard between the foreman and his partner.

I spent the cool of the morning outdoors, strolling the village streets and familiarizing myself with the layout of the village. There were very few commercial establishments, which was not uncommon in a mining town. As most of the townsfolk earned their keep in the mines, there was little use for much more than a general store, where specialty goods could be imported in, and the cantina I visited the night before, where the workers all with few exception would unwind at the end of their day. I took note of what names I could associate with specific lodgings, trying to get an accurate count of the population and where they resided.

A curiosity soon presented itself to me. The official census, taken several years ago, called for a moderate population level, fairly standard for a village of this size. From what I could ascertain from my notes, however, the lodgings I could find did not seem to appropriate for the amount of villagers the official census claimed lived in the village. By my counting, nearly a full half of the population must have some lodgings either outside the village perimeter, or were sharing accommodations with other family units. The idea of rural settlements such as this having multiple families living under one roof was not terribly peculiar, but in this great of a number, it caught my attention. Of course, this census information was very out of date, and it was possible that the population of the town had decreased naturally in that time.

After a modest lunch of local roasted greens, I requested permission of my host to gain access to the town's official records. The large man was eager to be of service, and showed me to a dingy back room in the lodge filled with dusty old file cabinets that obviously had not been cared to or sorted in quite some time. I thanked the foreman for his assistance and set about sorting through the mess, trying to find any sort of order in the musty paperwork.

I lit an oil lantern and prepared my pipe with some dried leaves I kept in my coat. I struck a match and puffed on the long stem of the pipe to get some embers goings, and took a moment to close my eyes and allow a sense of tranquility to fall over me. The records of the village were chaotic, chronicling births and deaths, keeping track of town meetings and local disturbances. However, there did not seem to be much order to the mess at all, records were flung to all corners of the room, and it took me the better part of the afternoon just to gather all the files and folders together into workable stacks, nevermind applying any kind of order to them. The embers from my pipe had long since burned low, and my lantern was losing oil. I knew I would be unable to provide any order or context to these loose leaf stacks of city records, but from what I could find, there were no records made any sooner than ten years prior. At least, none that I could immediately find.

I left the records for the morning's work, and retired to my room for the night. I prepared a light dinner from my reserves of dried jerky and wine, and gave myself up for bed. I lay in the dark for some time, yet sleep eluded me. There were too many questions raised, too many concerns to be resolved. My restlessness kept me up well into the night.

After several hours of this, I got out of bed and lit my pipe once again, hoping to relax myself into sleep. I had barely begun packing the leaves, however, when a sound caught my attention from outside. It was well after midnight, who could be about at this hour? I pulled my trunk over to the wall beneath the window, and stood on it to peer through it.

Half a dozen men came out from the mine, with a robed figure walking amidst them. I could easily make out the unique silhouettes of my hosts, the tall beastly Lug, and the flabby Nutt. The others I did not recognize, and could not glimpse the hooded figure's face at all. I held my breath as they passed the lodge, not wanting to draw attention to myself. They spoke not until they reached the warehouse behind the cantina, and from there they were too far outside my range to hear what was said.

I could see as Lug reached over and pulled the hood down from the robed figure, and I gasped. It was Susan, the strange troubled woman who pleaded for escape the night before. She must have fled into the mines, where the men had found her. But why would she flee there? Surely she didn't think she could hide down there? And hadn't she been fleeing the opposite direction when she took off the night before?

My queries were overshadowed, however, by the peculiar look on her face. Her skin had gone an ashen gray, and her eyes were glossy, as though she had been ill. Her expression remained unchanged as Lug removed her robe and gestured for her to enter the warehouse. But when she turned to go in, and I saw her complete profile, I gasped, and fell backwards to the floor. I quickly climbed back up to ascertain if my tumble had been heard by the crowd, and thankfully it had not. Susan had entered the warehouse, and the men were going their separate ways. I climbed down and slid into bed, contemplating the strangeness I had just witnessed. What had they said? She was "up for bearin'?" Suddenly pieces started coming together.

She had said, "I'll die before I let them send me down to that thing!" Evidently her fears were not unfounded. For when she had turned, the sight that had caused me to gasp and fall, the impossibility had been shocking for my mind to comprehend. While a lithe young woman only the night before, she now appeared to be fully nine months pregnant.


	6. Chapter 6

I spent the next day in careful contemplation. I sat in the records room without much sorting or organizing, try to grasp the strangeness I had witnessed the night before. Something had happened here, from what I could find, around ten years prior, for that was when the birth and death records because sparse and eventually trailed off altogether. A striking thought occurred to me. The foreman was obviously aware of what was going on, as gathered from the conversation I had overhead, as well as seeing him lead poor Susan out from the mine late the night before. Was I in danger? I was here, reviewing their records, examining their village, was there not some concern that I might discover what ill had befallen the people of Kangi Crossing?

I wiped the sweat from my brow, and combed through the records I could find from approximately ten years before. Birth and death records were scattered together, mislabeled, stuck together. As most were signed by the foreman, who was evidently ipso facto the mayor as well, I became familiar with Nutt's lazy scrawled signature, always in a dull black ink. The light from the lantern flickered from time to time, as the draft from the front door of the lodge sent a small waft of air back to the musty room where I sat. And during one such flickering, I caught a brief glimpse of color that didn't belong. What had I seen? Amidst starched parchment and the orange glow of the lantern, I had caught a sight of a dull red.

I reached for the far stack, where I had seen the color, and found two documents pressed together with some kind of adhesive. They were old, and in danger of falling to pieces. Trying to separate the two with the adhesive in place would certainly render them both unreadable. I held the papers in front of me, between myself and the lantern, and got the faint impression that the reddish adhesive that held the parchment together formed a type of script. Fascinated, I began the long and taxing work of carefully separating the paper as gently as possible, using a small knife to carefully cut through the more stubbornly stuck parts. It was not easy work, and I had to bring out my spectacles before long, as focusing on such tiny details began to hurt my eyes.

I eventually made progress, but not without price. Several parts of the paper refused to come apart, and many tears rendered parts of the words beneath forever unreadable. It was, however without question, written word. And judging from the smell, the hidden letter was written in blood.

From what I could find, the letter went as follows:

"There will be record of my... ... ... ... .. .

... ... ...little child, born on ... ... ..

...cannot take him away...only...

the thing below, it lives in the mines...

... ... . . ...they take them down... ... .

..their own gain. .. . ... ... .. . ...they...

hide the truth, not forever... ...will be a record.

...beware... ...do not... ...-nge me...

...escape while you... ... ...

...the Hunger. ... ...

...my love.

..."

I poured over the words again and again. There was a desperation here, a warning of some kind. Someone had gotten closer than they intended to, and felt that this letter, written in blood and hidden in a dark room where it may never have been seen again, as their only option, their only cry for help.

I carefully separated the final scraps from the two bound pages, which came apart easily. All that held them together was a simple and crude drawing, almost as a signature at the end of the letter. A circle that held two downward slanting lines within it, which met a little below the middle of the circle. They very same image from my book that had frightened the violet-eyed child so. The sigul associated with hunger.

I remember very little of what happened next. The lantern flickered with another waft of air from the other room, and I felt a hard blow on the back of my head. And then nothing but blackness.

I awoke some time later in complete darkness. My hands and legs were bound, and I could feel a tight pressure around my chest. I felt no ground beneath me, but could feel air blowing up from below. I bobbed in the air, and realized I was being lowered. I had been attacked, bound, and was now being lowered into the deepest, darkest pit I could ever conceived. I could feel the rope around my chest, that must certainly lead upwards to my attacker, and yet could see no light when I looked upwards. My god, how far had I been lowered? That no light could penetrate this far down, how long had I been unconscious?

Eventually, I made contact with solid ground, and I felt the tension of the rope go limp. My attacker had felt it as well, and soon the rope began tumbling around me. Whoever had lowered me down had no intention of bringing me back up again. I could do nothing but writhe as the rope piled around and on top of me.

And so I lay, unable to move, unable to see, at the bottom of an unimaginably deep pit. Left to die far beneath Kangi Crossing.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not know how long I lay bound in that pit, unable to see, unable to move, with the cord that lowered me fallen all around and over me. It was difficult to mark the passage of time, and I could only assume, based on my own hunger pains, that at least a full day had passed. I had nothing to occupy my time save for attempting to wring myself loose from my bonds. I could feel warmth around my wrists, and surmised that I had worn wounds into them, and blood now soaked into the ropes that held me captive.

The smell was thick, with a heavy dampness. My lungs begged for a waft of fresh air, aching with displeasure as they took in the foul odor of the pit. I began slowly working at the blood-soaked ropes that held my wrists together. With a single fingernail, I peeled back a patch of dried blood to work at the threaded cord beneath. I carefully and patiently began working at the cord with my finger and thumb, peeling apart the bonds thread by painfully small thread.

The work was tedious and very taxing on my fingers, and after several hours I had to take a break to give my swollen and sore digits time to heal. I had succeeded in freeing no more than half of an inch, and my bonds were still tight. I slept, breathing in the foul smell and lamenting my aching hand. When I awoke an indeterminate period of time later, I continued my slow, laboring process. Several days passed in this way, I alternated between my slow task of freeing myself and sleeping, with nothing for sustenance but the rag stuffed in my mouth, which I sucked on periodically, drawing whatever I could from it.

By the time I had picked my way through enough of the rope to free my hands, my index finger and thumb had been worn down nearly to the bone, and I was faint from hunger. I slowly worked myself free from the rest of my bonds, and rose to my feet. My ascent was short-lived, as the sudden rush of blood to my head caused me to faint back into the pile of rope. I awoke some time later, and took my time crawling around my confines in the dark, feeling blindly for sort of escape. In my current state, weak and worn, even if I found a foothold I did not believe I would have had the strength to climb out, especially not knowing how far down I had been lowered. My best hope was to find a patch leading toward the mines, and hopefully from there I could work my way back to the surface. What remained for me there, I did not know, but I could not focus on that now. What little strength I had must be devoted to escape from this hellish pit.

I felt along blindly in the dark for some time before I realized that I had moved a significant distance from my original location. I could no longer backtrack my steps to find the rope pile that marked what was to be my final resting place. I crawled and stumbled through the dark, with my hand on the wall, no discernable destination to work towards, hoping blindly to fall upon an existing path.

Once again, I do not know how much time passed there in the dark, but I had to stop and rest several times. My feet ached from my journey, and I was on the verge of giving up my life when a small glimmer of hope reached me. It was so little, but so significant to me. It was a smell, none of which I recognized, but different enough from the dank that enveloped me that some measure of the outside must be close.

My resolve strengthened, I pushed forward until the faint smell was strong indeed, and for the first time in days, my eyes met with light. It was distant, but flickered with the measure of a lit torch. My strength gone from my legs, I crawled towards the light until I could crawl no longer, and rested just shy of an opening into a small cavern. I heard the shuffling of beings inside, and from what I could hear, I surmised that the opening I neared rested atop the chamber, and that I was positioned near the top of it. I could hear all manner of rustling about, and my curiosity filled me with the strength to reach the ledge and peer over.

And that was where I first caught sight of the Horror at Kangi Crossing.


	8. Chapter 8

I've had the virtue of a long and bountiful life, filled with all manner of strangeness. I've seen and experienced things far beyond the measure of many of my peers, and in my later years, I begrudgingly admit that I have likely forgotten a great many memories that I would cherish to have back. Yet as long as I might live, no matter how badly I might wish it, I will never forget the horror I witnessed beneath Kangi Crossing. It is there when I close my eyes. It rests in the dark corners when I try to sleep. I am haunted by it, and I fear it may be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for their final rest.

I was in as perilous of a situation as I had ever found myself, buried deep in an unfamiliar land by my malcontent hosts, and bearing witness to a terrible and frightful ritual that no man was ever meant to see. I was safe for the moment, as safe as one could be in such a situation, perched high above what appeared to be a man-made atrium. I could make out in the darkness numerous ornate columns and carefully etched reliefs. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, and I imaged that I was in the long-forgotten halls of a forgotten race, one whose grand halls had long ago caved in and filled with dirt and stone.

There was a sort of natural luminescence at play in this otherwise perfect darkness, I could see what appeared to be some kind of fungal vegetation that grew all around, giving off a faint blue emission, a very ethereal sort of light, like the reflections of light under water in a darkened room. And yet amidst the blue-green tint, far down below me a start contrast was made. The same type of faint luminescence, but in a far more sinister hue. It was as though fire burned below fat and flesh, and the sharply angled V shape was all too familiar. Hunger. To Consume.

In stark terror I watched as from the cavern walls poured a flood of wiry limbs and glowing eyes. They resembled human children in size and shape, but their movements were born of nightmares. They moved on all fours, with their joints turned in ways no human could ever contort. They scrambled like spiders with a terrible speed and swarmed the atrium below. Their faces, those nightmare faces, were adorned with a great wide mouth in the same V shape as the Horror itself, and their pupil-less eyes glowed with the same luminescence as the fungus around me. I watched as they burrowed through the dirt and stone, using toothy mandibles like tiny arms shoveling the soil into their mouth. I watched them heave and vomit, spewing forth whatever their bodies could not process for nourishment. In astonishment I had a terrible revelation, the emissions of these hell-spawned creatures was a fine crystal debris, the same crystal mash that was the primary export of this small mining town.

So this was what I had been attacked and left to die for discovering. The mines of Kangi Crossing were not mines at all. The men of the town descended into these tunnels to recover the excrement of these monstrous children and sold it for goods. But then, where did these creatures come from. And what, gods help me, was the great flabby creature with fire burning in its skin?

I peered back over the ledge to get a better look at the large creature. This was the patriarch, the father of the tribe. His great belly burned with the fire, with the V shape like a scar over its terrible obesity. It walked on legs like those of a spider or great crab, carrying its weight with surprising speed and agility. It bore the same mandibled mouth as the lesser creatures, and yet it did not burrow in the ground for food like they did. Those teeth, those terrible teeth, this was not the face of a scavenger. This thing craved meat, and I shuddered with the implication.

A clamoring from far down in the atrium startled me, and I retreated back over the ledge, lest these frightful things become aware of my presence. I could hear the scampering of feet and a soft whimpering, a voice. A child's voice, an actual child! I peered back over the ledge and watched in horror as a child with violet eyes, bound and gagged, was carried on the backs of the nightmare children up to the father creature. Before I could cry out, and really, what good would that have done save for alerting the creatures to my presence, the screaming child was consumed by the toothy, mandibled mouth of the Horror.

I rolled to my back, forcing myself to look away as I covered my mouth and sobbed at the sheer brutality of what I had witnessed. I knew the violet eyed child, the one who had followed me out of the town and peered over my shoulder as I wrote my notes. The curious child who had touched the Hunger sigul and fled in fright when I found the gem.

The gem...

That slightly luminous, perfectly round gem.

I turned back over the ledge, I had to know more. The great flabby Horror was retching now, and his horrible burning stomach opened along the V scar, and from the fire inside emerged another of the nightmare children. The new child was greeted by his brethren, and I choked back another sob as it looked around its new home with those soft violet eyes.


End file.
